


The Drive Home

by InebriatedGlowworm



Category: Batman - Fandom, DCU, Red Hood - Fandom, batfam - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Gen, Motherfluffing Angst, Please Forgive me, Punched out this mammerjammer with a bad case of insomnia, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 18:57:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11469666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InebriatedGlowworm/pseuds/InebriatedGlowworm
Summary: The boys plan to meet up at the eldest two's apartment...It gets messy...





	1. Chapter One

One thing Jason hates nowadays is traffic. Gotham is one of the worst cities. Stop and go. Stop and fucking go. There was never a break, it was always packed. 

Flipping through stations almost irritated him more. Fucking commercials. How did it happen to be on every goddamn station? 

*rin-*

"Dickie!" He answers with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Jason, when are you going to be home? Tim and Damian are on their way."

"Soon, my impatient brother."

"Did you go to the grocery store, yet?"

"Course not. Why did we ever choose Gotham? I mean this traffic blows!" Slowly dragging out the last few words. "Text me your list if you need anything else."

"Huh? Fine."

"Oh, and Dick?"

A little too hyper of a response came back, "Yep?"

"Pick up your damned laundry, it was like wadding through a fucking swamp. I'm embarrassed to live with you, it's like an episode of Hoarders, no, the whole show combined into one very small apartment."

Jason chuckles as he hears a long sigh come through the line, "Jesus, what would Alfred say?"

"Oh, don't be dramatic! It's not-" Dick whines.

"Dickhead, clean." Click. He tosses the phone in the cup holder. 

 

Three more blocks to the grocer. Drumming his fingers on the wheel then air guitaring to the beat of a song, Heat of The Moment, waiting for the light to change. He glances to his left and the driver in the next car is laughing at him. He quickly rubs his nose, puts his hand on the steering wheel and sinks down chuckling at himself. 

Life was good, better than it had been in years. Jason looked forward to the family game and movie nights. He can make Bruce laugh at thee most inconvenient times, one of Jason's greatest treasures. One of the first times, they were on a stake out and Bruce just bellowed a laugh at one of his jokes, scaring the dealers on the corner. He needed a second to compose himself and of course they scattered. The other, was on the anniversary of Martha and Thomas Wayne's death at the graveyard, he started laughing so hard they had to leave. 

He moved in with Dick. He would take his little brothers, as they all were shorter than him, to the arcade and whoop their asses. They would meet regularly for lunch. Shenanigans ensues, almost always. 

One of the projects he was working on was a game changer for the city, if they pulled this off it would mean the world to him. He was volunteering a majority of his time at a children's shelter, and this program would assist in the education of hundreds. Setting them up for a better future. A better generation to rise up and lead Gotham. He was immensely proud of the project and is looking forward to start work with the kids, this weekend actually, four more days, they were breaking ground. He started a foundation to-

 

The light finally changes breaking him out of his thoughts. He rather enjoyed cooking for his family. What did he need? Juice, steak, mushrooms, red onions- 

A truck pounds into the driver side door. 

The crunch and screeching of metal as the vehicles collide was ear grating, ripping the material as if it were paper. The fumes from the broken oil lines in the truck. The burning rubber on pavement. The flash of light, the jarring, the sound of broken bones and then silence as the whole world freezes. No honking. No yelling. No typical Gotham. Shards of broken glass like diamonds tinker down onto the road. Blood spatters like an angry artist flinging his paint. Shattered plastic, remains frozen in time. Organs ricocheting off the inside of a cage, slicing against broken ribs filleting the tissue.

 

*honk hoooooonnnnkkkkk*

Tim leans out his window and above his steering wheel trying in vain to see what the hold up was. 

"Damn, hey I'm going to be late-"

"Tim, don't give me that excuse. I haven't seen you in ages!" Dick whines.

"You literally saw me last night-"

"Like I said, ages."

"Psh! Some douche nugget ran a light and smashed into somebody, they have the entire intersection blocked off." Tim suddenly yells at Damian, "Don't touch that! Damian! You can't just put the car in park, what if I had to accelerate, or something."

"Tt," shaking his head, "Where, Drake? Where? Into the cars in front of us?"

"Dick, I need you to take him! Can I lock him in the trunk?" Tim complains.

"I'm sitting right here, egghead." 

"Egghea- What? My head does not look like an egg!" 

"Both of you quit it! See you when you get here. You know you can't wait for Jason's dinner!" Dick sounds like an overly happy five year old and hangs up.

 

_"...Jason, pick up. Pick up. Pick. Up."_

_"...Come on, it doesn't take that long to run errands. Tim and Damian are here and we are STARVING!"_

_"...JaaaayyYYYyyssssOOOon!" Dick sings._

_"...Bro, little wing, answer your phone. It's the green button, just slide it to the right..."_

_"...Answer your phone or I'll have Babs track you..."_


	2. Chapter Two

"Hello, this is Bruce Wayne-"  


He gets cut off, "Sir, this is Officer Smith down at the Third Precinct, we need you to come down here to answer a few questions." The request came allowing no room for negotiations.

"May I ask what this entails?"

"If we can discuss it in person, it would be best."

"Whom does it involve?"

"Like I said, we can discuss it in person. Please be at the station at 2 pm, and we can get this fiasco cleared up." 

Bruce stares at his phone as he hears the other line clicking off. What did his boys do now? Dick and Damian were at the manor, so that leaves Jason and Tim, each on their own were more than capable to stir up some trouble in little Gotham. 

 

An officer shakes hands with Bruce and his lawyer, "Please follow me," and holds the door for them and guides them to an interview room. He begins by his hands creating a steeple under his chin, with a thick packet of papers in a file. Bruce reads the name, Jason Peter Todd. 

Great! What did he do this time? That boy! He tries not to let himself get irritated and focus on what the officer is saying. 

"...Sir? Mr Wayne? How are you related to a Jason Peter Todd?" He asks for the second time.

"He is my son, I've adopted him." 

"And it says here he died on," Smith searches for the date, "April 27, three years ago?"

"Yes, that is correct. What does this have to do about him?" Impatience wearing on him.

"Why would his fingerprints come up in the system, yesterday?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can you explain the multiple identities-"

"What are you getting at?" Bruce cuts him off.

"Was his death a scheme to get money out of the insurance-" 

Bruce slams his hands down on the table making his lawyer jump and the officer hardened his gaze. "Get. To. The. Point." Damn it Jason, what have you done? 

"Sit down, Mr Wayne." Smith calmly states. Bruce takes a second to adjust his suit and sits back down.

"Please explain to me why, when we ran prints on a John Doe his name came up?" Stabbing the file with his index finger. 

Bruce's lawyer leans over into his ear, "Sir, I advise you not to answer that. We need more information." 

He has to keep up appearances, "Jason is dead, why are you saying-? What is this really about?"

Sensing the other man does not know, "Sir, the John Doe we have, we believe it to be Mr Todd."

Bruce stares at him dumbfounded. John Doe?

"He may have faked his death, would you know anything about that?"

"Excuse me?"

 

The officer doesn't know how to continue, Mr Wayne seems to know nothing of Mr Todd faking his death, and then actually dying years later. Well this was going to be harsh, "Sir, last evening there was an car collision, one of the victims died on scene-" Smith heard a sharp intake of breath and the man opposite him seemed to freeze and stare off into the distance. He continues, "the other. The other didn't have a scratch on him, as he was inebriated two times passed the legal limit."

"Which-" was all the other man could say.

"We need you to identify his body, this is under strange circumstances, I know, but if we can get this sorted out quickly-"

Mr Wayne has balled his fists and barely nods.

 

Alfred, Dick, Tim, and Damian meet the lawyer in the lobby of the precinct. 

"Gentlemen, follow me." 

They question where they are going after they are lead past the interview rooms, past the holding cells, and detectives desks. 

 

Down a long yellowed tiled hallway lit ablaze with caged fluorescent lights, they came upon the room labeled 'Gotham County Morgue' to find Bruce sitting on a chair against the wall inside the room, head in hand. Middle of the room was a figure on a metal table, a white sheet pulled down to his shoulders. From the door they can see lacerations criss crossing the side of his face, but they knew who it was. It was their Jason. He was finally at peace.

 

This time Bruce buries him with a small shovel tucked under his arm, only to find four others.

**Author's Note:**

> What have I done?


End file.
